And I don’t want any of it.  If you are struggling to have a baby, or have suffered loss, this is not the post to read.  It is ungrateful, vain, and all around self absorbed.  But here it is.  I do not want to have to feel like I have to eat all the time to avoid feeling sick, because I do not want to gain that kind of weight. 

There.  I said it.  In all its vaingloriousness.   

Going in to this pregnancy, I never got to and maintained the weight I so foolishly thought since the last baby would just eventually occur.   Like it did with the first two babies.  I know.  Hate me that it happened at all.  Much less, easily.  But trust me, this time was not the same.  And now I’m going for it again.  And having to nosh, nibble, graze, all through the day to maintain the feeling that I won’t yarf.  That I will be able to get stuff done.  Maintain the house.  The laundry.  The other 3 chidlren.  Etc. 

So I fear, by week forty, I’ll look like Violet who ate the dinner pill too soon in Willy Wonka’s candy factory.  I’ll be being rolled from room to room, and begging for a compressor. 

Is this the end of the planet as we know it, in comparison to being able to even have a baby?  Nope.  But funny, once the thing you desire is gained, or you think it is, it is so easy to begin to focus on the non-essentials.

At first it’s all, a baby, God, just a baby.  Please let us have (another) baby.  Then poof.  Baby.  And then what?  A healthy baby.  No abnormalities would be nice.  But give us anything in your will Lord.  Just let it be healthy.  On to we really want a baby girl, Lord, a healthy, no abnormalities, baby girl.   And oh, Lord, I really would hate to be as sick as I was, an unsick pregnancy Lord, please, for a healthy, no abnormalities baby girl (no offense to any child or its parents for those precious children born with some "abnormality", I’m just making a general assumption that it was dealt with once known.  Not necessarily prayed for to happen.

And once these concerns are past, maybe, oh Lord, let my birth plan be seen to fruition, and don’t allow me to gain too much weight, and some nicer, newer maternity clothes would be great, and that doctor I don’t like, I don’t want her on call when I am in labor, and Aunt Edna drives me batty, give her the good sense to stay away with that nasty fruit casserole the first week when I’m all emotional.  I’m telling you, God, I’ll go off on her ass.  And do you think that crib set could go on sale, like this month?  I’m really ready to get the nursery set up, yada, yada, yada. 

OK.  I’m going back to healthy.  And maybe girl.  And I’ll just eat what I have to eat to get through this.  Is that too much?